


Danger Night

by StuffYouWatedToSayButNeverDid



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Danger Night, Implied Johnlock, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, John figures his life out, M/M, Sherlock is bored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 00:39:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16315775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuffYouWatedToSayButNeverDid/pseuds/StuffYouWatedToSayButNeverDid
Summary: John comes home to find Sherlock is having a “Danger Night.”





	Danger Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This just happened on a whim while I sat in my room at 1am bored out of my mind not having motivation to do anything so I was like...how would Sherlock be feeling right now? And this is what happened. I think it’ll just be a one shot but if you want expansion let me know! Enjoy!

Everything is stagnant and I feel the itch of boredom washing over me. It’s in my mind…I know this but I can’t help but reach up run my nails over my scalp and on my arm. I crave to do something, _anything_ , but as my eyes wander over books, journals, my laptop, I find myself with little motivation to do anything. My head aches from laying down, my spine burns with a need to move but my will is lacking. It is hard to believe that people simply wake each day with the energy to continue on. Without the dull needless commonalities of existence, I fear I would simply cease being altogether. I would wither away into dust without a soul to disturb me.

Times such as these, thoughts darken and I slip into a mindset that is far more difficult to be retrieved from than it is to avoid it. I think of distractions. If only I could convince myself to rise from where I lay, dress into something appropriate and nondescript, grab my keys and wallet, walk down the steps and out the door, walk block after arduous block, quite possibly in the rain, and wait. I loathe waiting. It’s the anticipation really. What is the point of time if people do not adhere to it. People will disappoint you. They always do. I would stand there, inconspicuous in the shadows, waiting. Just as my patience would reach its zenith, he would appear. There would be haggling. A part of this _culture_ that I despise. I would end up paying more than necessary because now I am _desperate_. My mind made up before my arrival, I would not want to wait a second more. But I pay. We part ways and the walk home feels thrice as long as before. I would feel their eyes on me. I know, _I_ _know_ everyone is looking at me. They’re aware of what I am about to do and they find it disgraceful. Ah, well. I never claimed to be an upstanding citizen.

By the time I enter back into my flat I would be drenched which only adds to what I must do before I can be given the relief which I’ve been searching for. A quick shower, a change of clothes and the setting out of my tools. My heart hammering, looking at the needle incased within the silk lined box. I _need_ it. The boredom is crushing.

But the rush of relief would be pure bliss.

My mind is made up.

I rise as my joints crack and muscles stretch with neglect. I tread into the bedroom and throw on whatever is closest, no one will see it under my coat anyway. I pull on said coat and scarf, preparing to leave, when I hear the front door open. I pause in my ministrations and listen. The heavy tread of footsteps are familiar and I feel my heart pick up and heat rise to my cheeks.

Throwing myself back on the couch, I kick off my shoes and pretend to be thinking. He won’t notice, this is something I’ve been found doing before. The footsteps grow closer, the door creaks open as a call of,“Sherlock?” Is pushed into the room.

John. John’s here.

I don’t look at him but keep my gaze up at the ceiling. “John.” _Yes_. _Good_. _That_ _gave_ _nothing_ _away_.

“Going somewhere?” John asks and sits down in his chair with a huff, kicking off his shoes.

“No.” My heart beats quickly as if he will see through the lie.

“Have a case today?”

“No.”

“You’ve your coat on.”

_Yes_. _Great_ _deduction_ , _John_. I can barely suppress to roll my eyes and let out a sigh, rolling so my back is to him and my face is curled up to the backrest of the couch. I want to be alone. I want John to leave so I can leave. Now that it’s in my thoughts I can’t let it go. My hands go to my hair and I grip it, pulling until I feel pain. Ah, good. A distraction. I can hear John rustling as he puts his shoes by the door and hangs his jacket, wandering into the kitchen and putting the kettle on.

“Sherlock d’you want tea?”

“No.” _Just_ _go_ _upstairs_ , _John_. _Go_ _to_ _bed_. _Let_ _me_ _leave_ _for a few minutes_ …

“Everything okay?” _What an inane question_.

I’m up in a second, on my feet and pacing by the window. “How can ‘ _everything be okay_ ,’ John? It is impossible for everything to simultaneously be okay. What would constitute ‘okay’ to you, John? Perhaps your okay, is not my okay. Regardless, what do you hope to learn from such a pedestrian question? If I lie, if I tell you the truth, what good would that do, _John_?”

He’s watching me, speculating. He thinks I’ve been using, I can see it in his eyes. The betrayal. How humorous that he finds my using a betrayal to him and not to my own self. But I haven’t. Not yet. He comes over and grabs my wrist without warning, stopping my pacing. He feels my pulse and it’s racing. I feel anxious and itchy and the last thing I want is to be touched.

“Are you high?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” I pull my arm away and throw my coat and scarf off. Why is it so hot in here?

“Show me your arm.”

I roll my eyes this time. He truly is an idiot. I could have injected elsewhere, he should know better as a doctor. But I push up my sleeves and show him. Clean, no marks, no bruises. John’s whole body relaxes with relief and he goes to turn off the kettle that begins to whistle. He pours two cups but one will go cold.

“I’m going to bed.” I grab my coat and scarf, picking up my shoes.

“It’s only half six?”

“I’m tired.” John frowns and I make my exit, closing my bedroom door and laying down on the cold covers. I listen to John in the kitchen, preparing leftovers for his dinner and then turning on the telly as he eats. The static of the telly pulls me into a daze, eyes closing but not fully immersed in sleep. I’m on the brink, breathing deep and mind soothing into a blank when I hear my door open with a creak. I don’t move or give any indication of being aware. “Sherlock?” John whispers, making sure I’m asleep before closing my door again. He foolishly stands right outside it, believing me to be asleep while he makes his call. “Mycroft.” There is a pause before he continues. “It’s a danger night.” He may think it’s a clever code name but it’s blatantly obvious. John and Mycroft use this whenever they believe I am craving. Well deduced this time around but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “Of course I’m not bloody sure. It’s Sherlock for Christ sake.” I’m well and truly out of options now. Mycroft will be watching 221and CCTV for any attempted escape I may have. The fat bastard. “Yeah, I’ll sleep on the couch incase.” He hangs up and goes up the stairs, changing his clothes and most likely grabbing bedding to use on the couch. He’s going to regret it in the morning.

I wait in silence as John settles into the couch with the telly on. Once I hear his light snores I get up and look through where my old stashes were in my bedroom. Each one coming up empty. I carefully avoid the floor wood panels that creak and check the places I had in the loo, only to find those empty as well. I can’t check the living room or the kitchen as it’d wake John but there is a place I’m doubtful he’d have thought of. His own room. Taking my time up the stairs and listening to John’s steady snores, I make my way into his room. It’s still in military precision cleanliness which only makes my job easier. Under the wooden leg of his bed is a loose panel that can be lifted just so that is just enough space to fit in a small bag, enough for a hit but it’d be better than nothing. As quiet as I can I kneel down and slide under the bed, pulling the wood back carefully so it wouldn’t snap and therein lies the solitary bag. My heart begins to beat in anticipation and I grin before sliding the wood back into its place and moving out from under the bed. That’s when I freeze. John his standing there and he’s angry. More than angry. He looks betrayed and…sad? Odd. “John…I was just…”

“Just what, Sherlock?”

“John…It’s not-“

“Not what it looks like? Save it. I’m not a goddamn child. Give it to me.” His hand is held out and I stare at it, desperate to keep what I found.

“You don’t understand, John. I _need_ it.” I held the bag so tight that my fingernails embedded into the skin of my palm.

“Like hell you do.”

“My head is tearing itself apart, I need a distraction! I-I can’t focus, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. John…John you don’t have to tell Mycroft, just…go back downstairs and let me…I just need one…”

John let out an incredulous laugh. “I’m not letting you get high while I sit in the next room and act like I’m oblivious to you destroying yourself, Sherlock!”  
“Do you want me to beg, John?”

“I want you to get a bloody grip! I’m not letting you use when you’ve been clean this long!”

“Why do you care?” I demanded.

“What? Sherlock you’re my best friend!”

“Please. You say that now and when you find some idiot girlfriend you want to marry you’ll be gone and I’ll be alone so why does it matter?” It all tumbled out before I could stop. Horror washed over me. _Get_ _out_. _Get_ _out_ _NOW_. I stood up and tried to push past him but he reached out and held firm, blocking my way to the stairs. “Let me go!”

“I’m not going anywhere. Don’t you get that yet?”

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.” I gave up on going past him and made some distance between us.

“Sherlock, I told you I wasn’t dating anymore.”

“I don’t care what you do, John. Just stay out of my business.”

“God, Sherlock! What more do I have to say? Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Don’t patronise me!”

“I must be mad,” John muttered to himself, shaking his head, “Sherlock. Listen to me. I told you I stopped dating women.”

“Have you finally come to terms with your bisexuality? Congratulations.” I sneered at him.

“Jesus. Just listen to me. It took me way too long to figure it out but yeah…okay? There is a man…”

I felt cold suddenly. Of course John would finally come to terms with his sexuality and find some…someone else. My chest feels like someone’s sitting on it. I lean against the wall and close my eyes. Torture.

“A complete nutcase but he’s one of a kind…flaws and all. He’s saved my life countless times and I his and that’s what we do…that’s how we move forward. When one of us is down, the other carries his weight and we move on.”

Warmth and pressure on my arm force me to open my eyes. John is standing there with an assuring smile on his face and it’s all too much.

“John…” My voice is no higher than a whisper.

“We’ve done this before, and we’ll do it again. Let me help you, Sherlock.” His fingers gently pry mine open and I can’t help but let him as he slowly takes the bag away and slips it into his pocket. His hand return to my own and our fingers are intertwined in a twist of digits. This is blindingly new and my brain can’t seem to process what’s happening but for the first time in nearly a week, I feel calm.

“Come on, I’ll make you some tea.” Our hands properly intertwine as he leads down the stairs.


End file.
